We bought it shortly after we were married. A 3.5-quart stainless steel RevereWare whistling teapot. And it sat on the top of our stove ever since. Used almost every day.

Until it fell apart. This, before shopping on the internet became possible. We looked and looked for a replacement, but no luck.

Until one day, on the long drive home, we stopped in at the new outlet mall at the north edge of what used to be a little sleepy town along the Front Range. The one with the large lighted star on the rocky mesa above town.

The star standing where the Ku Klux Klan used to burn their crosses, probably 70-80 years before.

And we found it. A perfect match for our non-functional teapot.

But this one did not last, either. At least, not much more than a decade. Maybe a decade and a half?

First the plasticene handle broke, so you had to use a spoon to hold the cap up so you could pour, and so it wouldn't whistle when you set it back down.

Eventually the hinge for the cap broke, too. We work these things hard. First thing on in the morning, usually not turned off until after five o'clock. Wife would prop the cap in place, and when the water reached a boil, there would be a brief whistle before the pot blew its top. Literally. Spitting its whistle across the stovetop.

All the times it was boiled down to steam, and then to nothing, probably didn't help. A couple times the copper bottom was glowing red hot. After each dry boil, the first couple pots of water would taste horrible, with the calcified mineral layers falling off in great chunks and the bare metal exposed. My last case of forgetfulness left it scorched black all around. Even the handle was too hot to hold.

The full boil offs destroyed the seal at the bottom, too. Could see water oozing out around the base when you first filled it up. Had to sit and steam for a while before the mineral deposits in the water resealed the crack. Had a layer of rime, worthy of a geyser or hotpool, covering more than half the bottom.

So, we pulled in at the outlet mall again over the holidays. With only the one stop.

They had one. Just like the old two.

But only one. The display model.

Manager at first told us we didn't want to buy that one.

Yes, we did.

He shows us a small dent on one side. Like most display models, it's had rough times. He's sure we don't want it.

Yes, we do.

So he knocks $3 off the sticker price, and we happily leave the mall.

Our new arrival, and it's well-worn cousin:

This one whistles quite well. Heeler sisters still aren't sure about it. If you leave it on low, without a spoon propping it open, it whistles on and off, in a low, pitiful tone.

These two sisters are only five years old or so, so they never heard the old one when it was functional. Little maskless heeler has come slinking into the bedroom more than once with her tail tucked and ears down, because something is whining in pain in the kitchen.

Some sort of rabbit ghost, or something.